


What Happens Under a Full Moon

by imperiality (orphan_account)



Series: Halloween Fic Fest Fills [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Festivals, Gen, Magical Accidents, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Shapeshifting, love saves the day!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 17:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/imperiality
Summary: When Lance accidentally partakes in a new planet's ritual under their greatest full moon, the paladins have to find out how to reverse his spell.Or, he could have just taken off the mask to begin with.





	What Happens Under a Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Arguably the weakest title I've made yet xP
> 
> Please enjoy! 
> 
> This the third installment of [ GrimHeaperr's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimHeaperr/pseuds/GrimHeaperr%20) Halloween fic fest!

Lance was glad he was able to persuade Shiro to let them do this. The castle was getting too stifling between the life-losing, the ass-kicking and the alien-schmoozing. Well, the schmoozing Lance couldn’t complain too much about, but there was a _line_.

They all needed a break.

Lance offered spa day. Keith immediately shot it down. So, spa day was out… alright. There was a universal agreement that Space Mall was out. Back to the drawing board.

“Why don’t we play games in the castle? We can all just hang out,” Pidge suggested. 

“We’ve already played games in the castle! Besides, the whole point is to get _out_ of the castle. The whole point.”

“It is?”

“Yes, Keith.” Lance paid not a single glance towards him. “And if it wasn’t, it is now.” He spread his arms. “But I don’t know what to do! None of you guys are helping me think. I can’t be the only idea-man. For real. A little participation goes a long way, people”.

They all sat in the lounge, silent silent. _Are any of them actually thinking?_ Lance had exhausted all of his ideas. (All of the ones that would be publicly acceptable, anyway.) He’s done with game time, has _been_ done with game time. Board games, Pidge's console games, _Keith’s mind games._ Not that he didn’t love his fellow paladin’s company, but. Just. No more games.

He couldn’t imagine what everyone’s problem with dancing was, and karaoke was also out for the count. What was these peoples’ problem with fun? If Team Bonding wasn’t good, dancing wasn’t good, singing, shopping or gaming weren’t good- what _was_ good?

(All of this questioning made Lance feel like some old, obscure pop star back on Earth.)

“Wouldn’t it be around October on Earth?” Hunk wondered. “We could do something with that.”

Lance snapped his fingers. “ _Yes_! You genius, apple of my eye, Hunk. I _got_ it.”

“And what _is_ it?” Keith tapped his hands on his arms impatiently.

“We should do a Halloween thing!”

The paladins looked to each other in trepidatious curiosity. Gears kind-of sort-of turned in Hunk’s head, but he didn’t seem to be quite on the same wavelength as Lance. “What do you mean like, putting wreaths around the castle and carving pumpkins? Did you want to get us all costumes? Oh my gosh speaking of which, we still have that group costume we planned back at the Garrison. Though we have more people in the group now…” Hunk looked down, dejected. “I don’t know if there’s enough characters for everyone to dress up in. Unless we make Keith the evil guy.”

“ _Hey_.”

“No, no. No costumes. You guys aren’t thinking big enough. We’re getting _out_ of the castle _,_ we’re having fun if it _kills us._ I mean that!” He paused a bit for dramatic effect. “We can’t be the only ones to celebrate some kind of Halloween-y holiday. There has to be like, other planets, _realities”_ he drawled pointedly towards Shiro, “that have a day where people can dress in costume, celebrate ghosts or commercialize raising the dead. If we have any good luck we’ll find a planet with all three.”

He looked over to Hunk’s and Pidge’s ebullient faces, slapping a high five to both of them. He’s successfully gotten two on his side. Now to sell it to three more.

“Come _on,_ Keith.” Lance unabashedly whined. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been going stir-crazy staying in here, doing nothing but mission after mission.”

“Actually, I hav-“

“Exactly. Which is why we all, _every person included in this room,_ need to get out of the castle in a place where we’re not trying to recruit the natives as part of the coalition. Let’s get our mind off of Voltron for a bit.” He reached his posture wide, halting. “A day! A single, solitary day. Everyone, each person on this castle, for _one_ day. Let’s bring Coran along for the heck of it. I think we can manage that much. What say you, Princess? You don’t have to think about exhausting yourself with wormholes for a _day_. The lions can get the rest they deserve, too.”

The more Lance talked, Allura couldn’t deny seeing the appeal of letting her magic rest. He knew he had her by “no wormholes.” Allaying from his diaphragm, he sealed the deal:

“Don’t worry about a thing! I’ll pick a good planet for us. I’ll do all the work, you guys don’t need to do any. Unless you want to join me Allura,” he waggled his eyebrows. “You’re more than _welcome_ to join.”

Shiro stopped Lance for himself while he was still ahead. “That’s very generous of you, Lance. I think we’ve got a good foundation for the coalition, and the Galra have been a little quieter lately. Allura, if you’re still fine with it I think we can swing it. Lance, if you could find something like a festival, I think we could all agree to that.”

At everyone’s contended nodding, Allura sighed in admission. She drew up her chest. Pushed down her shoulders. Painted on a warm smile and agreed,

“Okay, paladins. One day, and for one day _only_ , we may go to a planet of Lance’s _wise choosing_ ”. She intoned. “I’m assuming this ‘Halloween’ is another one of those Earth things-“

“Actually,” Pidge interrupted. “not exactly. Sure some countries around Earth celebrated it, but not all. You know what _should’ve_ been an Earth thing? Día de la muerte.”

Lance held up a hand. “While I’m not disagreeing, Halloween is obviously superior for one reason.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Pidge retaliated.

“ _Trick-or-treating._ That’s what.”

Hunk hopped right on board. “Oh my _gosh_ , I forgot how much I missed trick or treating!"

“For real,” Pidge nodded. “Matt and I used to go all out with our costumes. We would trick or treat the entire night through.”

“I’d always feel so bad, I’d finish like, all my candy within the month.”

“The month, Hunk?” she asked him scandalized. “We’d finish ours in the week!”

Then it was his turn to share the scandal. “The week?! Well, okay maybe between two people… but if you were out knocking on doors for hours…I don’t even want to think of the stomach aches you two had.”

While the techies chit-chatted and squabbled away, Allura leaned in close to Keith’s side. She spoke-whispered in his ear,

“What is trick-or treating? Is it another Dia de la… thing… thing?”

“No, it’s not another Day of the Dead thing.” He answers full volume. “Basically on Halloween you dress up, knock on peoples’ doors, say ‘trick or treat’. People try to guess who you are or what you’re dressed as, then give you free candy.”

Allura pictured it in fond synthesis. “That actually sounds quite lovely. We had something kind of similar on Altea. Kind of. We would hand out potions, herbs and crystals to teens so they could fight the overwhelming oppression and pressure leading into their adulthood. You could say it was more like a coming-of-age celebration. Too bad we never had anything like trick-or treating."

“Well,” Keith assuaged. “I’ve never gone trick-or-treating either so you’re good.”

Shiro cut into the paladins’ bickering with swift and effortless authority. “Ok- _ay_ everyone. I’m doubting how easy it’s going to be to find a planet with trick-or-treating, _but for all of your sakes I hope we find one”_ he muttered. “Thank you Lance for offering the idea. I think a break is exactly what we all need. This will be good for all of us.” He was silent for a moment, letting the awkward inflate before saying, “Besides. None of you could measure up to my costume if we trick-or-treated. I made mine by hand every year back on Earth.”

When the rest of the group predictably, flammably tried to refute Shiro, he leaned back with a smarmy smile slipping all over his face.

 

—

 

That night, Lance cracked down to find a planet. He spent all night searching the literal galaxy to find something that fit all the perimeters Shiro set for him. As a matter of fact, Lance must’ve pulled an all-nighter 2 days in a row trying to find the stupid thing. Trying to find a planet that was not Galra-infiltrated, dangerous of atmosphere and _totally boring_ is much harder than he gave it credit for. Damn Shiro.

And Allura didn’t even bother to join him in his search. Rude.

But at long last, he finally found it. ( _Without_ Pidge’s help mind him very much.) When he drew up of previews of the planet Indanyk on the projectors, he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him.

“Aye _míjito_.”

The planet itself was shrouded with grey cotton-candy clouds. The mornings bled of soft blue skies. The nights seemed to fade from pink to purple to velvet indigo. A perfect diorama for the twinkling stars above. Beaches plentiful spattered all over the planet, leading into teeming jungles or break-back forests to hike through.

There’s something for every paladin on Indanyk. 

If Pidge didn't want to join in the festival, Lance was sure she would be just as happy losing herself in the tangling thickets. Hunk could take some time to himself over the plateaus in the heart of the planet. He’d be more than thrilled to know of their overwhelming food diversity, of this Lance had no doubt. Shiro and Keith could probably dork around in one of their billions of observatories. Their atmosphere and solar placement made stargazing fantastical. Almost unbelievable. Coran could take Allura shopping like she’s always wanted.

Lance could maybe dip his toes in the beach if he had the time.

Secretly he used the Princess’s resources to learn more about Indanykian history. His baseline understanding informed him that they were a peaceful people (good,) welcome to foreigners (also good) and completely devoid of Galra. That last bit was good, for sure. Good, if a little bit strange.

He reported all his findings to Shiro and Allura after holing himself away for days. His eyes were bloodshot, his eye-bags heavy and deep, his smile wily and atomic. Subconsciously they took a step back. Boisterously he announced to them,

“I _found_ it! The planet! I found it!”

“The planet…” The princess asked wearily.

“For the festival!”

“The festival…” Shiro chewed on the word a moment. “Ah yes, the festival.” He brought Allura to the side, reminding her _for our Halloween outing._ “What have you found, Lance?”

Holding a hologram stick in front of him, Lance conjured up the most flattering images of Indanyk he could find. He gave commentary to each photo as he pointed frantically at the panoramics moving around them.

"The planet is called Indanyk.”

Allura cut in, "And it-“

“Is only a few galaxies over. No sweat to jump over.”

But Shiro raised “How about-“

“Galra are no problem there,” Lance assured. He gave his leaders some time to study the photos. Allura’s eyes predictably widened at the expensive-looking boutiques, Shiro’s at the cliffs’ edges and telescopes. “Indanyk is having a celebration of some kind in just a few days. The translations were a pain to deal with, so I just didn’t bother. Their weather is pretty autumn-ish right now though. I figured with their season the celebration would be as ‘Fall Festival’ as ever.” He slid his eyes over Allura and Shiro both. “What do we think?"

“I think it’s absolutely beautiful, Lance.”

“Good work, Lance.” Shiro said breathlessly. His focus zeroed in on the tapestry of Indanyk’s starry skies. “You've outdone yourself. I can see how much thought went into your search.” He looked Lance dead-on. “We’ll start heading over first thing tomorrow morning."

And if Lance knew better, he’d have said Shiro looked even more excited then he did to go.

 

—

“Night of the Magic Moon. No nonsense. I like that.” Hunk nodded approvingly as he took in the sight.

When the castle landed on Indanyk, all the paladins were bombarded with _sensation._  (Bless Coran he wanted to explore too, but Allura bid him stationary. _As repayment of the Space Mall excursion._ He figured that was fair and stayed at the castle pacing holes into the tiles. If only he knew the splendor they were beholding, instead of worrying himself sick.)

The colors of the landscape, the architecture and the people were all subdued in nature, but were enticing with a kind of quiet peace. The clothes the Indanyks wore were all loose, diaphanous. They flowed wide and easy around their arms and calves. The hems cut low into their chests, high up on their legs. The buildings mirrored the same effortless feeling.

There was nothing very _heavy_ on Indanyk. Glass and translucent stone were popular materials of choice for buildings, furniture and transportation alike. Hunk had made his first purchase at a food vendor, swearing that what he ate was _cleaner than flounder_ and flaked easier than his _creme brulee_. 

The very ground the paladins walked on was densely-packed, but left chalky reside on their boots. Light, light, light everything was.

The architecture seemed to sparkle in place of its peoples’ jewelry. The paladins didn’t catch a single ring or earring on many of the inhabitants. If they did see one with jewelry by any chance, it was always a spindly choker wrapped tightly on their neck. Maybe an understated yet intricate anklet that were soundless as they walked adorned their feet.

Every vendor the team passed on main street had a different scent rising from it. (That’s what caught Lance’s senses the most.) Meat, pastry and deli stands brought sparkles to Hunk’s eyes. Shiro seemed distracted by the multitudes of perfume merchants they encountered. Lance? Lance was _salivating_ with all the spice sellers.

Each one had its own little set up. Some preferred to tower their bottles of spices in rows or stands around them, while others had their wears open at hand and eye-level for customers to sample. The easiest seller trick in the book. Lance was wholly and completely succumbed.

Herbs like cilantro and sage made him feel like home with their warm and cooling aroma. In the next wave, paprika and salts and peppers of all kind found their way up his nose and on his tongue. He caught light whiffs of tart hibiscus, and assumed the subtle warmth of rosehips was close behind. At last, nearly sweltering him where he stood, Lance swallowed taste after taste of something like… cinnamon. That was cinnamon, wasn’t it? (Well, it _was_ fall.) It was something like cinnamon, if not a bit darker.

He let himself be led right up to it, unaware of his teammates trailing behind him. When the aftertastes started becoming sour on his tongue, leaving his eyes prickling, Lance demanded of the shocked merchant:

“Where do you keep the cinnamon!”

“Ex…excuse me, sir?” The poor man answered.

“The cinnamon!” He gestured hysterically. “Where do you keep it, where is it! I swear, it’s so strong I'm going blind."

His teammates moved to interrupt, dissuade, _calm_ the situation, but their services were unneeded. The merchant spoke to Lance unperturbed.

“Ah,” he walked near the back of his hut. “Did you mean this?” and held up the canister of the Dark Cinnamon. When he opened the lid for Lance to peer in, he realized a couple of things.

“That’s not cinnamon, is it.” he said sheepishly.

Kindly he addressed Lance, then to his little crowd. “Correct, young man. It isn’t.” He passed the canister around for them all to look into. Hunk nearly stuck his finger in to sample, but not before Pidge sharply _smacked_ his hand away to smell it for herself. The merchant continued saying that “what you’re smelling now is the ritual powder for tonight’s Magic Moon.”

“Magic Moon…” Keith murmured. “That festival that’s going on tonight?”

Pidge turned her head to his, “You’re right! The Indanyks have that celebration Lance was telling us about.” She rubs some powder between her fingers. “What do you use this for?”

“For the dance.” The merchant smiled knowingly, privately. “A fortuitous time you’ve decided to come to Indanyk. Had you come at any other day, you might not have found our company quite as… couth.”

Shiro handed the powder back to him. “What do you mean?”

All of a sudden, Lance knew exactly what he meant. The information he read about the planet he’d all forgotten once the team landed. The body language and nature of attire had gone completely over his head by the first whiff of spice.

The slow walking, the intentional hip-swaying- Lance finally called to mind. Indanyk people weren’t moving peacefully. They were moving seductively.

Their free-flowing clothes cut at tasteful, tantalizing hems. Jewelry and hair styling that accentuated their most delicate, vulnerable features. Everything was made to be removed easily, visualize plainly. 

Lance just kind of… conveniently forgot to mention it to Shiro and Allura when he brought the planet up.

The merchant drew him out of his thoughts, “Indanyk is known to many across the galaxy as ‘Pleasure Planet’.”

Which explained a lot, actually. (No wonder the Galra have nothing to do with Indanyk. They were probably too weirded out in the first place.)

The paladins let out a collective groan. Amongst them they grumbled: “only you, Lance.” _Only_ him? He took offense to that! He screeched,

“Hey! Just because I forgot to mention some _minor details_ doesn’t mean I didn’t do a good job. You all were totally on board until not even like, 10 seconds ago. So the people here are a little more… _loose_ with their sensuality than we are.” He turned to the side, “ _I’m actually kind of into it_.” Then regained his normal tone. “Besides, none of them have made a move on us. No one here has even looked at us- cross, wrong, sideways or over. In fact, they’re probably not going to be paying any attention to us at all! They’re full-swing into the Magic Moon junk.”

He gave his teammates a moment to dare to challenge him. (Dared _Keith_ a moment to challenge him.) Before they could get a word out edge-wise, he snapped his fingers.

“Actually, now that I mention it-“ he made grabby hands towards the ceremonial dust again, “what do you use this stuff for anyway. You said you use it as ‘ritual powder’?”

“Yes, we do.” The amused man replied. “The Night of the Magic Moon is my favorite time. It is a time when we celebrate the rise of our fullest harvest moon. Under its glow our magic is stronger, our waters are clearer, our dances are brighter. Dancing-“ he motioned with the jar “is our ritual of praise, if you will. We throw the dust into the air, and let the light cast its shine on the granules, as though the moonlight is tangible over us.”

A fascinating time, really. Lance liked the whole “let’s combine magic with season and music and dance” aspect going on. That was neat. He would’ve appreciated it more, had he actually bothered to listen to the merchant after he said _dance._

“Tell me about the dancing!”

The paladins turned their unsurprised heads to their over-eager member. Keith was quick to warn,

“Lance. How smart do you actually think watching a dance on an unfamiliar planet with unfamiliar people on their most _magical night of their year_  would be? Not a lot.”

He waved a testy hand in response. “Oh shut up, kill-joy. Also, Keith. Who said anything about ‘watching’? I’m joining _in_. And so are you Hunk, we’re in this together, no take-backsies.”

Poor Hunk about combusted. “Lance! Dude-“

He rolled his eyes to the group at large. “ _Relax_ you guys.” Then patted his friend’s arm tenderly. “Hunk, buddy. If you’re not going to join me that’s fine. It just means that I’ll have to take Allura instead,” and threw in his signature Eyebrow Wagglee for good measure.

She blew him off. Typical. 

That’s okay, he’ll just throw in a wink too next time.

The man behind the stand broke into their moment. Nodding his head vigorously, he admonished them “yes! We encourage all people to dance with us! The dances are, in my humble opinion, quite unlike anything else you’ll ever experience. Take heed, however. If we encourage you to dance, we encourage you to dance responsibly.”

“‘Dance responsibly?’” Pidge dug. “What does that even mean?”

“Combined with our magic, strengthened by the moon’s power, the dances have been known to be overwhelming to some. Enjoy yourselves greatly. Stay under our moon for as long as you wish. But keep your enjoyment in moderation.”

Moderation has always been something Lance has wanted to try.

Moderation is something he knows he’ll never do.

 

—

The merchant bid the paladins goodbye, generously giving them each a sampling of the ritual powder. 

When Lance saw the swelling hoard of people already moving in the streets, he wanted to tear his sachet right open and dump all the powder on himself. 

He needed to get moving. He needed to start dancing. He needed to jump in. He needed to _feel magic._

Shiro’s unrelenting grip on his shoulder didn’t let him get too crazy too quickly. He wanted them all to stick together, as they were _strange people in a strange land_ , and that they should _take this time to bond as a group. As a family._

So Lance appeased him for a bit. The team grabbed food together. They needled Lance together. They spoiled and pampered Allura together. The together thing was working really well, (so well that Lance was shocked. The cozy times between the Defenders of the Universe were few and far between. He could have gotten used to the atmosphere,) until he couldn’t. He couldn’t Together anymore.

He was Togethered out.

Especially when he saw stands upon stands, set up right next to each other, selling animal masks detailed beyond belief. He reached to grab one from a hook, but stopped to take in its intricacy.

All around the mask was carved feathers of hyper-realistic detail. Gentle, swirling patterns were glittered in the groves, the mask highlighted at deep protrusions. Its creamy white and foamy blue enchanted Lance. When he put it up against his face to tie the ribbon? It was _necessary_ to Lance.

“How much for this?” he asked the shopkeep.

“45 GAC, sir.”

Ooh. That’s a bit steep. His mama didn’t raise no wimp, though! Before he could raise his best haggling voice, the woman in the vendor sharply gasped.

“Your armor, your number of compatriots. You… you’re a paladin of Voltron! Aren’t you?”

“Why yes I am. Blue paladin, at your service.” Lance flashed his pearly whites.

“Oh how blessed am I!” she lightly strummed her hands on the table before her. “There’s a reason why Magic Moon is my favorite night! Umm, I can take it down to 10 GAC for you, sir.” She paused. “Well how many times am I going to meet a paladin of Voltron. How does 5 GAC for you sound?”

And Lance said “that sounds delectable.”

He jogged back to his teammates, but before he could get too far the woman called from behind him: “Be sure to trade your masks with others, mighty paladin! Remember our magic tonight. We are a very free people, here!”

Yes they were.

And yes, Lance _would_.

Hunk was the only one to really appreciate Lance’s new purchase, though. He swears. How could they not all swoon over its painstaking meticulousness? It’s supernatural craftsmanship? The way it glimmered against Lance's flushed skin, making him tingle with magic etched into its carving.

It was ridiculous.

“Don’t take it personal, bro.” Hunk clapped his shoulder. “I think we all just want to get to other things. Shiro and Keith talked about visiting the telescope while you were at that vendor. I think I might join them, just to say I did. Pidge and Allura- by Allura’s insisting of course- want to go and have ‘grown up girl bonding time’. What ever that means. You still thinking about dancing?”

Honestly, when is Lance ever _not_ thinking about dancing? “Hell yeah! You comin with or sticking with Shiro?…And the other one.”

“I just. I want to do it, I would love to dance with you, you know I would. I’m thinking it’s maybe not the best time to do it, though? We don't know these people at all, and it's their most magic-saturated night. Of all nights. All year. It's not sitting right with me, Lance.”

“Then it must be something you ate friend, cause I don’t think I’ve ever felt more _alive_.” He’s waited long enough. “I’m going dancing.” He probably says goodbye. “Don’t wait up for me!” He’s done with “together” for the night. “And don’t come get me till the _sun comes up_.”

Why would he bother sticking around to talk lodging with his teammates? He didn’t plan on sleeping at all, regardless.

His teammates saw Lance slipping into the crowd, called out to him “be safe!” “don’t stray too far!” “don’t get into any trouble,” and “remember Lance. Enjoyment in moderation.” Which were all nice and beautiful thoughts, don’t get him wrong.

But when he heard the heavy pounding of drums lick deep in his chest, the shrill calls of Indanyks circling and ringing in his ears, the chimes and bells and strings and melodies all calling and reaching, melting him from the inside out-

Moderation could screw itself sideways. 

 

—

For a couple songs or so, Lance simply observed. He followed the fluid rolling of the dancers’ hands, the airy gyrations of their hips hung low. It reminded him of home a little bit. As he stepped into the beat and joined the circle, it reminded him of home a lot a bit.

If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was back on Earth. The sweat on his skin  and the feeling of his body close to another brought him back to memories of family gatherings. Naturally, they weren’t as wild, or as intentional, or as… uh… _hot_? as it was on Indanyk, but the sentiment was the same.

Besides the ever-lingering dust in the air or alien instruments seducing Lance to move, the biggest separator from memory and reality were the masks. Everyone, everyone in the twisting crowd had a mask.

Horned masks seemed to be the most popular. Wait. Perhaps… horned isn’t the right word. They were more like antlers. From the front of the mask, two or even four thin, weightless antlers would swirl out. Just like Lance’s feathers, the antlers were carved with thin leaf details, or curling spirals.

Lance couldn’t even say he had a hard time noticing the detail, cause he didn’t. He couldn’t blame it on the low light, because it wasn’t. The moon had risen and risen over the horizon, stagnated low in the sky, bled its pink light over the people. Was it the magic getting to him, or was he just being weird; he could have sworn he _felt_ the moonlight seeping into his pores. Opening his lungs. Dilating his eyes. Quickening his heart.

Whatever it was, you could say Lance enjoyed it _immensely._

Feathered masks like the one he wore were pretty popular as well. Each had a different accent color, but the base was always a cream, light grey or rich charcoal. Same went with the simple-eared masks he saw. (The cat-looking ones had really gotten to him.) Other masks patterned with scales, fangs or whiskers all made appearances in the crowd. Each one more beautiful and appealing than the last.

Some masks covered a person’s entire face. Some, only the very edges of their eyes. (Some masks only stayed on the wearer’s face by the magic itself cause _good grief_ how is that thing even _real_?)

Every mask was designed with an animal in mind. The most abstract thing about the design were the carvings etched in. 

That seemed probably important to Lance.

He then remembered the woman’s words from the mask vendor. _Trade your mask with others_. He’s… he’s not particularly sure why he would do that, but he’s not about to knock another planet’s culture just cause he doesn’t get it yet. Who's actually going to know more, the alien or him, the… alien.

Tapping on the closest shoulder next to him, Lance gestured to his scale-carved mask, then the other’s. Over the thumping, frenzied music he asked “wanna trade?”

The Indanyk slunk in close to Lance, almost pressing chest-to-chest with him. His husky whisper curled out of his mouth, only audible by magic to heighten his senses. “Soon, but not yet. When the moon peaks over the horizon and its color fully bleeds over, then you will see.”

Sharply the music quieted. The dancing stilled. The singing hushed, the dust settled and Lance was… high-key confused. Until the man beside him with the scaled mask sighed in awe,

"It is time.”

Lance saw the rising of the moon first. Higher and higher into the sky it climbed, casting its vivid light on the people below. As it rose, the light changed from pale pink to a deeper shade, deepening and deepening until it stopped at a potent magenta. 

The color impassioned him.

Every second the moon shifted, Lance could _feel_ the magic change in the air. While he was dancing the atmosphere was excited and lively. _Fresh._ With the quickly peaking moon, the magic steadily turned something more…intense. Focused. Flammable. _Primal_.

Drums started thrumming again. He could step over and into their beat. Voices high, falsetto wove their way in. The moon rose- they projected. He felt all sound, starting low and slow rise in tempo and volume. The vibrations started in his feet, stayed resounding in his chest and head.

He lowered his gaze back down from the moon. A mask outstretched to his awaited his attention.

“Now, we trade."

So Lance threaded his mask loose and quickly passed it to his new friend. In return, the man bowed his head in thanks. Lance lifted the new mask to his face, surging magic pulsing in the fabric. It tingled his fingers as he tied the new ribbon.

It overcame Lance in the blink of an eye.

A fierce current ripped through his body, leaving his nerves singeing and hot. His tongue was left heavy, his head drooping. When he flexed his fingers next, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Actually, yes he could. He was on an alien planet lightyears and lightyears and lightyears away, how much more proof could he need?

His fingers could only stretch so far. The webbing-

Wait.

The webbing?

Thin, translucent webbing connected each of his fingers. He wiggled his toes in his boots… yep. Same thing. He lifted his arm up to his face, and green-blue scales shimmered under the moonlight. _Neat._ His breathing was double-fold; he ran his hand over his neck to find sets of gills on either side.

_Double-neat._

He chanced a look at his friend, and he was looking pretty… neat himself. (Though, "neat" didn’t do him any justice whatsoever.) He was covered in light white plumage from head to toe. His fingers extended to delicate claws. His features looked ever so slightly sharper.

Yet he had the audacity to say to Lance, “you look beautiful like this.”

Right.

Okay.

Lance couldn’t justify his comment with a response, so instead he danced. He danced with his new sea-tinted skin. His new, seaweed colored hair. His new dagger-edged teeth _with which he hopes not to cut himself._

He danced with his mask-friend a bit, drowning himself in his laugh. He danced with women, strangers _aliens_ all around him, all hidden behind their own animal mask. Each one caught his eye. Each one he wanted to try on. But he held back, thinking to himself _what if I see one I like more_?

Spinning just a bit a way, flashes of red and hot orange lured Lance closer. _That one_. (It’s a good thing he waited. Maybe patience yielding focus is actually kinda legit.)

He wasted no time in handing off his old partner’s mask for the new one. In a flash of light, the woman he traded with gained he aquatic features he lost. Lance slipped on her feathered mask, and his bones shifted, shrunk and _moved._

That time when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t even greeted to hands. _He wasn’t even at eye-level to the dancers._ Instead, long red feathers replaced his fingers. His feet turned to strong claws. His mouth stretched into a beak.

Clumsily from the dust-covered ground, Lance emerged flapping as hard as he could. He… he didn’t want to know if it was his awkwardness or his traffic-stopping colors that made him a sight to behold. 

Either way, this phoenix thing was _working_ for him.

High above the crowds he lifted himself. Some dancers waved, some dancers smiled. Other dancers still blew kisses to his avian form, and that was alright with him too.

Flying like that was different from piloting blue or red. While he could reach altitudes that exceeded the limits of _atmospheres_ in the lions, he would _never_ feel the exhilaration he did in his shifted form. In the lions, he _took_ flight, he was _cradled_ by flight. 

As a phoenix, he _was_ flight. He didn’t let flight take him anywhere. He was in control. He took flight where _he_ wanted to go.

Circling and flitting around the raving bodies, he thought he would never come back down. He had a few hands reach up to feel his tail-feathers, and he’d never felt so appraised. So _attention-grabbing._ Letting the wind settle over and through his feathers was like embracing a sigh. He was cooled and coddled from the inside out. The feeling was intoxicating. He thought he could stay _just like that_ for the rest of his _life._

But no! He couldn’t! He still had so many other masks to try!

After he traded the phoenix mask with the woman, Lance was smart to not just look up, but to look around.

Like flashes of lighting, bursts of white and purple-hot magic cropped up every second. Trades and exchanges at ricocheting speed- the hand-off of a mask faster than Lance could even untie his ribbon. Indanyk forms grew taller and shorter all around him. Creatures of all kinds replaced the dance-floor, spanning from palm-sized birds and rodents, to house-sized beats and _megafauna_.  He had to join in.

He ran back to meet his dance-friend, and he at long last retrieved his own mask. After that? He was a flame that couldn’t be held. 

Dancing around from person to person, Lance was addicted to the feel of the shift of his bones. His next form was something like a hare. He didn't appreciate the hopping around or the almost being stepped on so he changed that mask right fast.

The cat and ferret-like forms were easier to him, given that he could hop or wind up on anyone’s shoulder, and none would be the wiser. 

He tried reptiles a few times. (The crocodileish form was cool.) He tried more aquatic shifts. He traded for an antler mask once, just for the hell of it.

Yet no matter how many forms he tried, he always seemed to wind back to a feathered mask. It's like his eyes were calibrated to find each and every one- just the feathered masks _exclusively_.

He got high on the magic in his veins. The rush through his blood. He liked how the wind whipped through his feathers, he liked perching on dancers forearms shoulders and heads. He liked how he could sing sweet like a chickadee, or croak like the call of death as a crow.

So he kept trading. No one told him to stop.

He kept trading and exchanging and searching for masks, heedless to the warnings of the vendors before. He was heedless to time. How much had actually passed since he’d started dancing? (Lance wouldn't care anyway; he was too busy searching for the next shift.)

Somehow, he still had enough presence of mind to see his impending crash before he danced too much more. He’d started coming down. Instead of wings or claws or paws or webs in from of him, he wanted to see his own two _hands_.

Returning once again to the first dancer he met, Lance motioned to return his mask. For the final time. For real. (He could hardly believe it himself, but he thought he had his fill of dancing for the night. And _then_ some.) His friend was acquiescent, gingerly holding the carved fabric.

Lance reached his hand out to meet his, lifting the mask up and over. He untied his ribbon’s tight knot and began to tug, but-

_tug, tug_

It was like… superglued to his face.

In his bleary haze, his only solution was to tug harder. So he _yanks_ his mask with two hands, only to yank his face and neck along, too.

His mask just wouldn’t come off! His mask was… 

His mask was not coming off.

He couldn’t get it off.

“I can’t get my mask off.”

The dismayed Indanyk looked deeper anguished than Lance knew what to do with. That… that look couldn’t have been a good thing. Or maybe it was a cultural difference thing, maybe his crestfallen face meant _woe_ on Earth, but on Indanyk meant “great jubilation”. Or something. That had to be it.

After a bit more wishful tugging, Lance flicked his eyes up to his friend.

Nope.

Some looks are quite literally universal.

Of _course_ this would happen to Lance. Since when was it ever wise to expect Lance to listen to advice like “enjoyment in moderation”? That vendor really should’ve known better.

That vendor should have stopped Lance from dancing at all.

Hopelessly he turned his delicate, webbed hands in front of him. They really _were_ nice to look at. Maybe staying in the form wouldn’t be so bad for a while. The Indanyk did say he looked beautiful that way.

“What’s happening?”

He tried to remember his breathing techniques, sensory focus or anyway to distract himself from the inevitable _breakdown_ he was about to have.

“The magic of the moon," the man placed a hand on Lance's shoulder. “You've expended too much of the moon’s magic. It has cursed you.”

“ _Curse_?” the boy wailed.

“For though it is powerful, it is lethargic. Your natural body’s form becomes tangled with the strings of many shifts. Too many shifts, and nature is confused. This form and your body’s form have more or less… mixed.”

 _Mixed?!_ Lance couldn’t afford to stay like that! “Well is there any way to _un-mix_ it?”

“Well, yes. The process is simple, but perhaps not easy. And if you have any hope of returning normal, you must do it before the moon sets."

Before the moon set?

Lance had planned to dance until the sun _rose_!

Well. 

There goes his Enjoyment.

 

—

From her vendor far into the streets, Lance’s mask-seller stared longingly into the crowd. She'd been part of the Moon Dances for years, but now staying on the sideline to let others enjoy it in her stead? A jab in the foot would have been kinder.

As she stared out in the writhing bodies, the tangy magic settling on her tongue, she noticed one spot in particular that lit more than usual. At first she saw flashes every few minutes or so, but quickly, the bursts grew from minutes to mere _seconds_. That person was not stationary, either.

All around the crowd, she saw the person hop to change from mask to mask. They couldn’t sit still if the universe depended on it. _That couldn’t be good._

She put up a _“closed”_ sign on her table, slipped on a plumed mask from its hook, then fluidly shifted into mighty white wings. She gathered her bearings. She shook out her body a couple of times. 

Then, she soared.

Although her heart surged to join in the dance, she spared no lingering look to anyone besides-

“Blue paladin!”

It seemed that at every quarter-turn, he was whipping on a new mask, changing changing changing before he could even draw breath.

_That’s not good._

She distinctly remembered he had other companions with him. They each wore the same armor, but all accented in different colors. She remembered the colors separating on their own path two-by-two, all heading in separate directions. She needed the other paladins!

As quick as the wind and her wings and the moon would take her, she raced to the paladins she knew were closer. Her place high in the sky gave her panoramic view of the bustling city streets below her. _Pink and green_ she repeated in a mantra. 

She flew and flew until- ah! There they were! The woman dove straight toward’s Allura’s shoulder. She perched and _good grief, the screaming_ , had to speak over the two to explain Lance’s situation.

“Green and pink paladins, please follow me! It is your blue paladin, he may be in grave danger!” 

But her imploring might has well have fallen on deaf ears. Coldly Allura replied, “why should we trust you? How do you know where our blue paladin is? I’ve been trapped far too many times, far to frequently to trust much of anyone about now.”

“You don’t understand!”

The green paladin retaliates. “I’m with Allura. This planet has been putting me on edge ever since we got here. What do you really want?”

“Oh I don’t have _time_ for this-“ then promptly pulled at Allura’s hair to the direction of the observatory. She nimbly evaded Allura’s swatting; the princess’s hands only ignited her agitation. 

The woman flitted down to the nearest vendor, plucked two masks from their displays and yelled “I’ll return these to you!”, thrusting her… purchase into the paladins’ faces.

She hovered in front of Allura’s face. Her beak wasn’t even 3 inches away from the princess when she implored,

“Follow me.”

And they did.

Straight up to the sparkling observatory they all flew, frantic and curious, minds unforgivably droning with the possibilities of “what ifs”.

Hunk, Shiro and Keith dropped silent at the strange birds in front of them. When Allura and Pidge shook off their masks, they _plonked_ to the floor with a crash. The Indanyk woman would be sure to express sympathy for their battered knees later. At that moment, she looked them all in the eye in her command to “ _stay.”_

_Now to fetch the blue paladin._

But she didn’t know she didn’t need to, though. Lance was already on the way.

 

—

 

The powder merchant knew right away that Lance was in trouble when he saw the three birds flying straight to the observatory. He shuffled from behind his counter without a second thought and raced straight toward the throng. 

Pitiful was Lance, sauntering out of the rings of people. Only just hours before stood a young man brave, brash and excited. When the merchant retrieved him, he saw a boy weak, tired and helpless. Hopeless.

But that simply wouldn’t do.

Especially not when there was a hope to be _had._

“Blue paladin!” he waved his arms. Heavily the paladin swayed into his side, but together he led them up to the observatory where the rest of Voltron waited.

As they walked, the merchant quelled Lance’s fears to the best of his abilities.

“Fret not, young lad. I’ve seen this happen many times before. And many times before, I’ve seen these effects reversed. Do you know what you need to do to get rid of the curse?”

Miserably Lance whined “not _really_.”

“The task is simple, but perhaps not easy.” _Yeah, Lance has heard that before._ “Before the new sun rises, you must have been given your true love’s kiss.”

Did.

Did Lance hear the man correctly?

“True love’s _kiss?_ ” he slurred.

“Yes, true love’s kiss. I have great faith in belief that if fate can bring the great paladins together, her hands can also bring great love together. I don’t see why they can’t be one in the same.”

Lance did a terrible job of hiding his blatant laughter. “Puh-lease. I can _promise_ you, there’s no one on the team that I could… that I even… there’s no one that I love like that. It’s not going to happen.”

Oh, but the man had faith it would. The strength of his faith was contentious to Voltron’s piercing right arm. There _was_ love with the paladins of Voltron.

He spoke as though Lance never interjected. “But remember- you have to do it under the fullness of the moon’s light. If a cloud obscures it, if it begins to set too low, if there is even a flicker of the morning light- it will not work.”

So. True love’s kiss under cloudless, flawless moonlight or he was stuck as a furry the rest of his life. No pressure or anything.

The rest of Lance’s and the Indanyk’s trek was made in silence. Desperately the boy attempted to divulge his attention to the night calls of the birds. The swooping bellows of _caws_ and _shrieks_ hidden in deep thickets around their path. It helped some, but.

Lance didn’t particularly care for the silence as they walked.

Then, the merchant stopped. He tapped the boy’s arm, and gestured to look up.

“What is it, old-“

And Lance couldn’t gape wide enough.

Looming over them stood the immaculate space telescope, gleaming and prestigious under the burgundy moon. 

It was beautiful.

It stood nearly as tall as Lance’s anxiety.

Kindly the merchant prompted him along, and together they strolled through the front doors. They made no preamble in meeting the rest of the team. Lance simply spotted them at the edge of the open deck, nodded to the older man, and _charged_ his way over to join them.

“Lance!” they cried.

Shiro cut to the quick, putting all crying, scolding, fretting and boasting on hold. Judiciously he asked, “Who do you need to kiss to reverse the spell?”

And honestly? Having been asked that very question on that very night by The Very Shiro didn’t do a whole lot for Lance’s cohesion. Bluntly he answered,

“I’m not sure. I don’t know.”

“Come _on,_ Lance.” Keith insisted. “This isn’t a game, you-“

“I _know_ it isn’t. You think I don’t know that?!”

“Guys!” Shiro snapped. He turned his head right to Lance again. “Tell us, this is no time to be shy or ‘modest’ or dishonest. Do we need to speak privately?”

 _Good Lord no, that’s precisely what Lance_ didn’t _need._

“No, Shiro. I don’t think that will be necessary. I just… I really _don’t know._ ” His frustration humbled him. He had to fight his tears, his angers, his very emotions in front of his entire team. That is, until Hunk suggested:

“Why don’t we all just do it one by one?”

“ _What_?”

“No, Lance. Shut up. I’m serious. If we can’t figure it out now, why don’t we just go down the line. It’ll be more effective than wasting time bickering about it. We all take a turn, Lance gets saved, and then he and whoever it works with can talk about it once the mess is all sorted. I like that plan, if I do say so myself.”

And… Lance guessed it couldn’t hurt to try?

Those were Shiro’s sentiments exactly. 

“The curse doesn’t say it has to be anywhere specific, right Lance?” He shook his head to Shiro. “Good. I know this is not… ideal. Nor is it how any of us imagined spending our night on Indanyk, but now we all have a job to do. Do it wherever you feel most comfortable, and Keith?”

The testy red paladin hardly looked up in acknowledgement.

“Behave.”

“ _Psh, yeah. Whatever.”_

One by one, each paladin kissed Lance in modest places. Under different circumstances he would have considered it nirvana to have such direct affection. As it was, he was barely keeping it together enough to fight his tears.

Shiro planted a soft kiss near his head. They waited a bit… and….? Nothing. 

Okay, they just moved down the line.

Allura was next and placed a maternal kiss on Lance’s forehead, but after a second, still nothing. 

Keith tore his face toward and away from Lance’s in half a second flat. They are both unsurprised by its lack of effect. Pidge takes his hand, nothing. Hunk, his last hope and saving grace smacks his lips against the side of his flustered face. 

Hunk, his buddy! His pal, his amigo, his hombre. What greater love is there than that between friends?

Apparently… some kind of _different_ love because Hunk’s warm kiss does diddly with a side of squat.

So then what was supposed to happen. Was Lance supposed to just… kiss himself? 

Keith’s hysterics were absolutely no help, either. “Why didn’t that work? Shiro, why didn’t that work? Why are you still,” he waved a hand up and down Lance’s scaled body. “Like that! What did we do wrong?”

“We’re right in the moonlight,” Pidge agreed. “We all kissed him. There’s no sunlight to be seen, I can still feel the magic in the air.”

Ah.

Wait.

That was just it. That was just _it,_ the magic. The magic!

Lance had a crazy idea that just _may have_ worked.

“Everyone. I need you all to kiss me.”

His plan was received only marginally better than he thought it would.

“ _Excuse me.”_ Keith stomped. “What do you even mean.”

“I mean just that. Everyone, I think you should all kiss me at the same time.”

He felt it in the air as each paladin passed by him. One measly, solitary kiss wasn’t going to cut it. He just knew it. But… whenever one paladin was walking away from him and another towards him- Lance could feel the magic crackling. If he could charge that power all at the same time? They might have a way to make it work.

“Kiss you all at the same time, Lance?” Allura wearily inquired. “How is that going to work?”

“Just trust me, princess.”

Like a tableau, the paladins let themselves be positioned to Lance’s liking. At either side of his temples, Shiro and Allura stood close to him. Down by his hands he led Hunk and Keith. Pidge willingly (and rather eagerly?) positioned herself right in front of Lance’s face.

“I’ll be dammed if I didn’t take this opportunity.”

Which was a line he would let himself parse into later.

 _Already_ as the scene was set, Lance felt the magic thumping into his feet like the manic drums. Every paladin’s energy moved in near tangible plumes, washing over and through Lance in colored waves.

Lance whispered, “ _kiss me._ ”

And by their energy he was washed in and _out._

With all of them together, he felt the same power and adrenaline and fortification that he did when they joined as Voltron. Altogether with their energy combined, all their pieces fit together like a puzzle that slotted before Lance.

(If he let his mind slip back enough, he could _swear_ he was back in Blue.)

Where Shiro and Allura kissed into his hair, he could hear the nudge of Shiro’s confidence and guidance edging his thoughts. In a stage-whisper his aura spoke to Lance. _You_ are _enough. You are valued. You are special. You are worthy._ While Allura’s prim voice echoed _make us feel welcome. Make us feel rested. Make us feel together._

Keith’s voice was hot, bright and loud, zinging Lance’s shoulder-blades all the way down to where his lips met his hand. It begged and pleaded with Lance. _Please, you’re needed. Please, you inspire. Please, you’re the only._ Hunk’s words were warm and powerful, just like him. And yet- they were the most surprising of all. Laced with sharp conviction they cut right to Lance’s core, _You need to focus. You need to recalibrate. You need to_ realize.

And Lance knew Hunk meant so much more than _words_ right then, but he couldn’t hold onto a single one. Not when the tears, mucus and emotion were all pouring down his face.

Pidge’s words straight from her lips to Lance’s; from her heart to Lance’s, singed his soul with the most heated words of all. To his heart she spoke,

_Let yourself find peace. Let yourself be confident._

She broke him hardest of all.

 _Let yourself be_ ** _loved_**.

Then panning out from Lance’s chest, waves and _shocks_ of blue-hot light radiated, **boomed**  out. A combustion of light from the middle of the deck of the high observatory was seen for _miles_ out. And Lance. Lance felt it _all._

He felt the cohesion of Voltron leave him, but the renewal of his soul remained. Each color and aura from his fellow paladins withdrew all at once. They all left, but he didn’t feel empty. As a matter of fact, he’s never felt more _full._

Was he full of the magic, still? Was he full of the spirit of their lingering thoughts? 

Or was that just… love?

No final shift change altered Lance’s features. In a simple blink of an eye, he had webbed hands then not. Open gills, then not. Shining scales, then not.

(Lance had started to _really_ freak out for a moment there when he felt his legs congealing together. How was he going to pilot an alien fighter ship with a _tail_?)

His aftershocks of love didn’t let him think about it anymore.

Shiro clapped his palm on Lance’s right shoulder. He was sure to guarantee a Lecture once they returned to the castle, but for then, he could spare the grief. Just a little bit. He couldn’t help the fond look as he gazes down anyway, nodding to Lance in solidarity.

“Good work today, sharpshooter.”

Lance is disinclined to agree, but nods his head anyway. Maybe his teammates auras left him, but his _feelings_ sure didn’t. He looked to all his friends with glittering eyes. “I _love_ you guys.”

(He wanted to extend his gratitude to the spice merchant too, but when he tilted his head over, Lance saw nothing. He was already gone for a long time running.)

He probably cut Shiro’s, Keith’s and Hunk’s stargazing time short. He knew he stopped Allura’s and Pidge’s shopping trip, and he realized how much they needed that time. The kind, generous merchants probably worried themselves sick over the Blue Paladin of Voltron. 

Yet even still, Lance would forgive himself of these things. It would take a bit, but he knew his teammates would forgive him fully, too.

Aside from their love, Lance was sure of only one other thing, then.

Indanyk was _precisely_ the break he needed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ((beta'ing coming soon))


End file.
